


A Model and His Artist

by Solera



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, It Gets Better, M/M, Old work, it starts slow, there's some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 22:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18508231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solera/pseuds/Solera
Summary: Music is Erbluhen’s life.At least... until the world said no.





	A Model and His Artist

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old work (almost 3 years ago) regarding Zusakky's Model and Artist artwork linked below:
> 
> https://ilvspaceyzusakky.postype.com/post/1266778  
> https://ilvspaceyzusakky.postype.com/post/1266799  
> https://ilvspaceyzusakky.postype.com/post/1266809
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys.

It’s a quiet and peaceful day. It’s perfect for the daily student life in Elrios University. The quiet is occasionally disturbed by a random bird chirping merrily or the sound of brushstrokes from a certain classroom that counts as an artist’s studio.

A man is sitting by the window of the studio, looking outside with a peaceful expression.

A stroke of the brush on the canvas, a look at his model sitting by the window, and back to giving life to his painting. Sia tries not to be too distracted with looking at his current model, Erbluhen.

It’s surreal how beautiful he looks from this perspective.

Sia continues to paint silently, knowing the other wouldn’t hear him even if he talked. He wonders if there’s something that would really interest his fellow student.

From the corner of his eye, Sia notices that his model shifted his position. When he finally takes his eyes off the canvas, he sees that Erbluhen is looking out the window. Before he could wonder what he’s looking at, Sia hears the distinct sound of a solemn cello from outside.

Wait, did Erbluhen smile just now?

‘Why would he smile?’ he wonders. ‘Ah, is he still interested in music…?’

Sia stops his brushstrokes and looks at him with pity. He gets a small sketchbook from his travel bag and writes the words “We’re done for today. Good work and thank you.” and shows it to Erbluhen.

He reads the words and then smiles at Sia. Erbluhen nods and gets up to leave for the day.

Sia stares at the painting nearing its completion. Knowing it will all be over soon does not bring him the satisfaction he often felt with his other projects. He wonders if he can drag on the session a bit longer.

Erbluhen walks out of the classroom-turned-studio and enters the bathroom on the next door so he can dress back into his own clothes. It doesn’t take him long to get out and down the office.

When he leaves the building, he looks up at the window where he looked out from not too long ago. To his surprise, Sia is looking at him. Erbluhen smiles and waves good bye, to which Sia awkwardly smiles and replies with the same wave.

Erbluhen met with a female student waiting for him at the building’s stairs. The female student is Ara who is his usual volunteer interpreter and also his friend. Ara understands that Erbluhen isn’t that good with sign language yet but it doesn’t matter for her. She signs that she’s sorry for being late and Erblu reassures her that she isn’t at all.

As the two walk back to the dorms, Erblu notices the cello player he saw from the studio’s window. He quickly hides his face from the musician with a medical face mask and quietly leaves.

It was futile, however, as the musician does notice him.

Arme continues to play the cello, acting as if he didn’t see the person he’s been looking for the last few years. He plans to investigate what he was doing when he disappeared. He has a lead now and he’s definitely happy to know that Erbluhen is also a student of the university.

All he had to do was to question whoever it was that uses the building where Erbluhen came from.

Arme wraps up his performance and decides to visit the building - it actually looks like an artist studio. ‘So he’s visiting an artist, huh?’ he thinks upon seeing the paintings put up on the walls.

He hopes to get a lot of answers. He knocks on the closed door that had a doorplate reading “Apostasia Creations”. He thinks it’s a weird name.

The door opens to show a student - a painter based on the apron smudged with multiple colors of paint - with really long hair tied up in an untidy bun. “Ah…” the man seems surprised to see Arme. “Welcome,” he says, moving away from the door to let Arme go inside. “What can I do for you?”

Arme looks around the room, noting that it really was a studio for a painter. “I’m here to ask a few questions if you don’t mind?” Arme says hesitantly. He wonders what Erbluhen is seeing this artist for.

“It’s fine…” the man offers him a seat and then sits at another random chair placed in the studio. “My name is Sia… I own this room for the semester.”

“Thank you. My name is Arme,” he introduces himself before sitting down. “You’ve probably heard of me if you go around musical news of the school.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t know… My art is more of the visual kind…” Sia stares at his visitor. “What is it you wanted to ask?”

“I’ve seen someone come out from here just a few moments ago,” Arme smiles a bit. “You probably don’t want to talk about someone else but behind their back...” he sounds nervous. “I just need to know if he’s alright.”

Sia understands. He recalls reading an article in the newspaper sometime ago - a young pianist, often described as being “a genius, a prodigy unlike any other” - disappeared from the musical scene after being involved in a nasty car accident. The newspaper had published a photo of the young man, and though years had passed, Sia still recognized Erbluhen’s features in that photo.

And the cello player sitting before him was none other than Erbluhen’s former contemporary, Arme.

“He’s staying as positive as he can be,” Sia would not hinder a friend from knowing something at least. “It doesn’t appear that he’s lonely with how he lives now.”

Arme relaxes at his words and Sia smiles. “I’m glad… I thought he disappeared to…” Arme trails off, sadness in his features as he knew how painful the event was for Erbluhen.

Sia lets the man reminisce a while before continuing. “Earlier…” he starts, not knowing if he should say it. “I could hear your cello performance from outside and.. it looked like Erbluhen noticed you from the window. He looked out and smiled at seeing you perform.”

Arme smiles as well at hearing that. “That makes me happy, Sia,” he pauses, then reaches into his satchel and takes out a sheaf of papers. “I would’ve given this to him by myself but… he ran away from me earlier when he saw me.”

Arme hands Sia the papers. Sia glances at them briefly; they’re pages of handwritten sheet music. He fixes Arme with a confused frown. “You want me to give these to him, knowing that it would hurt him because he can’t play at all?” he asks.

“Yes,” Arme replies firmly. “Give it to him as a gift. He was working on this before the accident. It was the most precious thing to him at the time.”

Sia still hesitates but takes the sheets from the musician. “You won’t meet him?” he asks curiously.

“I...I want to. But if the feeling’s not mutual, it’s fine…” Arme says, smiling sadly. “He probably needed the distance. I don’t think he wants to be near me anymore.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Sia says pointedly. “I doubt he can even hate anyone. He’s too kind.”

Arme smiles and nods. “Give it to him as a Christmas present, okay?” Arme gets up and turns to leave the room. “He was supposed to play that piece on Christmas that year...”

Sia watches Arme leave before looking down at the pieces of paper in his hands. Erbluhen would either go back to depression… or be extremely happy.

He hopes with all his might that it will be the latter.

* * *

Sia’s work of art was done. He applied the final coat of varnish over the dried paint and set the easel aside to let the varnish dry fully. Erblu’s work with him was now over. It wasn’t quite Christmas yet, but...

Sia retrieved the bundle of hand-written sheet music that he had been entrusted with, now carefully tied up with a ribbon patterned with candy canes, and waved his hand at Erblu to get the other’s attention. Erblu blinked and looked at Sia quizzically, pointing at the rolled up papers. Sia quickly scribbles a message on his dog-eared sketchbook: “Early Xmas present 4 u.”

Erbluhen giggles at the chicken-scratch writing and smiles, taking the bundle from Sia. He unties the ribbon and unfurls the paper.

Ah…!

The paper is slightly yellowed with age and less-than-optimal storage. Erblu recognizes his handwriting; rows of neatly and meticulously written notes dot the page. The musical score’s title is written in wobbly cursive at the top.

_“Das Requiem”_

Erbluhen looks over the sheet, smiling happily at seeing his beloved original piece. Sia lets out a sigh of relief.

That was the last time Sia had contact with him

* * *

A year passed. Sia’s painting of Erbluhen netted him a near perfect GPA. He started paying more attention to the music students at the university and noted with some slight annoyance that Arme wasn’t kidding about being very...notable in the programme.

He still didn’t hear anything from, or about Erbluhen.

Sia always stares at the window, remembering the other student everyday. He wonders how the other was doing now. The ache in his heart could only be described as “pining for someone”. Sia wonders when he became this lovesick.

When he looks through the sketchbook in his bag, he notices that more than half of it is filled with his messy, almost illegible writing and Erbluhen’s neat cursive; exchanges between the two of them about how mundane their lives are..

Sia never noticed his feelings until Erblu was gone.

It’s almost Christmas again. Sia decided not to make the horrendous multi-hour road trip back to his family home, so he’s alone this year. He sighs and unwraps a brand new piece of canvas - might as well get a head-start on his thesis painting.

The shrill doorbell cuts through the silence of his studio. Sia blinks, staring at the door, the lid of his pot of primer paint half-unscrewed. Who on earth would decide to visit the workrooms at this time of the year?

He opens the door and sees a familiar face. It’s Ara, but Sia is terrible with names and won’t remember her name until she leaves.

Sia doesn’t get a chance to say a word before Ara shoves an envelope in his hands and runs off like the wind down the corridor.

He looks at the envelope in confusion - his brain is still processing who the girl was. Finally he says out loud, “Dammit her name is Ara!” With that out of the way, he turns his attention to the envelope - it’s made of good quality paper, the fancy kind you buy in upscale stationery shops. It even had a wax seal. Sia was impressed. He turns it over and sees his name written in beautiful cursive penmanship that he recognizes.

Sia tries to open the envelope without mangling the wax seal too much (he fails), and pulls out a piece of embossed cardstock. The cardstock was apparently cut with a slightly blunt knife; he can see the slightly frayed edges where the blade caught the paper and dragged it. Written on it, in the same cursive, is a ticket admitting one to the school’s concert hall.

Is this what he thinks it is…?

There’s a date written on the card; it’s today’s date, and the time of the performance is in a couple of hours. Sia figures if he hustles and takes a brisk jog, he can make it to the hall with some time to spare. He puts the ticket in his pocket and runs back to his dorm.

Sia steps out of his dorm wrapped in the warmest clothes he has - a faded red beanie, a long blue coat, a thick charcoal-grey sweater and a scarf. He stuffs his hands in his coat pockets and shuffles through the snow. It’s too damn cold for him, but this concert is worth every second of discomfort.

After trudging through the snow, he finally reaches the concert hall. He can hear a faint melody drifting through the doors which are already ajar. Sia pushes them open and peeks in; Erbluhen is sitting in the center of the stage at the grand piano, pressing the keys with calculated precision.

Sia slowly walks towards the stage - Erbluhen hasn’t missed a single note so far. The melody is perfect.

“It’s.. an early Christmas present.”

He remembers his words to Erbluhen last year when he gave him that music sheet. Could this really be…?

Sia is mesmerized.

* * *

Erblu can’t hear the melody. All he hears are muffled plinks, as though he’s underwater. ‘I still can’t hear...I may never be able to,’ he thinks to himself. He reaches the chorus and smiles serenely. ‘I remember, though.’

Erbluhen lets the last notes drift away, his fingers on the keys still. He lifts his hands, and looks down from the stage. His guest has arrived - and from the looks on Sia’s face, the performance went flawlessly.

Erblu waits for Sia to make his way up onto the stage; he stands up and passes the taller man the sheet music. Sia looks at the sheet music; it’s _Das Requiem_ but the title changed to _For You_.

Erblu waited for Sia to react, only to be met with a bunch of weird hand gestures and a very confused Sia. He blinked, his own hands clasped together.

It dawns on him - Sia is trying to use sign language. Erblu patiently waits for Sia to finish what he’s saying; Sia is getting more and more flustered.

Sia tries one last time to sign, and then facepalms in exasperation

But Erblu understands what he’s trying to say.

_I love you._

Erblu doesn’t try to sign back - instead, he takes Sia’s hands in his own. He stands on his tippy-toes, and lets his lips meet Sia’s.

Erbluhen stands back slightly while linking their hands together. Sia looks at him with wonder, astonishment clear in his face and Erblu smiles at him widely.

"I understand... I love you too."

Sia is stunned. Erbluhen spoke?

What a beautiful voice.

“You can still talk?” Sia looks astonished, still holding Erblu’s hands.

“Of course,” Erblu’s voice is slightly coarse with disuse. He speaks slowly and deliberately, pronouncing each syllable. “I’m only hard of hearing...not mute. People thought I was faking it, because I could still talk. Besides...I want to thank you, but your sign language is terrible.”

“I know it’s terrible,” Sia says, going slightly red. He was half gesturing while speaking slowly, just in case Erblu couldn’t lip read clearly. “And it’s nothing, really...I wanted you to be happy. It was Arme, really, who told me to give that to you.”

“Arme did, did he…?” Erbluhen chuckles. “He really knows me so well..and, honestly, I have to confess - when I got home, I was depressed.” Sia’s eyes grow wide, and he starts to apologize profusely, but Erblu cuts him off. “It’s not your fault, Sia. It would be surprising if I didn’t get upset. But…” Erblu smiles gently, “when I sat down, my hands started to move on their own. Maybe I can’t hear anymore, but my hands definitely remember how to play.”

“It was a wonderful performance, Erbluhen…” Sia says sincerely.

Erblu pauses, rubbing the back of Sia’s rough hands with his thumb. “You know...I kept seeing your face while I practiced this. It made me realize you’re not just ‘that art student who needed a model’.”

Sia hugs Erbluhen close, and his heart skips a beat when he feels the other reciprocate the hug. They pull away after what seems like ages, and Sia can’t help but fixate on Erblu’s scar. They sit down on the stage, and Erblu decides to tell Sia what happened.

> It’s always beautiful. The melody in his hands is otherworldly and graceful to everyone who hears him. He’s still a child, but the music he makes is amazingly beautiful.
> 
> Let’s face it. Erbluhen is definitely in love with music. Every note gives him a sense of mystique and immense feeling. His heart beats alongside the music he hears and makes.
> 
> Music is Erbluhen’s life.
> 
> Erbluhen smiled as he stops playing, letting the tune continue for a while before removing his finger from the key. He takes a pen and started writing on the blank sheet he had propped up on the piano.
> 
> “Erbluhen,” a calm voice called to him from behind.
> 
> “Hey Arme,” Erblu smiled. He turned his attention back to the sheet music in front of him. Arme leaned on the piano, watching his friend write furiously.
> 
> “What are you doing?” Arme raised an eyebrow. “We need to practice you know.” He noticed the sheet music. “Is that your own composition?”
> 
> Erblu nodded enthusiastically. "I'm working on a surprise piece for our next concert!" Arme skimmed the sheet music; he wouldn’t have said it out loud, but he was impressed. Erblu jabbed him. “Stop peeking, I’m not done.”
> 
> Arme flinched at the poke. “Fine, then can I at least hear it?” he said.
> 
> Erblu grinned and happily obliged.
> 
> "Can't believe human fingers can stretch that much..." Arme commented.
> 
> “Actually, I might have to rewrite this section,” Erblu said as he stared at the sheet. “It’s killing my pinky fingers.”
> 
> “Das Requiem?”Arme blinks. “Wow, I didn’t know you knew that many words.”
> 
> “Arme, did anyone ever tell you what a big jerkbag you are?” Erblu said, poking his friend with the pen he was using to write the music. “Fine, we’ll practice.”
> 
> That day… everything changed…
> 
> Erblu’s in the car with the family chauffeur. The snow makes the roads more dangerous, so the car moves along at a slower speed than normal. The roads are dark; he left late today because he got absorbed into fine tuning his original piece.
> 
> His phone rings - it’s Arme. “I’m on my way home, Arme,” Erblu says. “I’m in the car already. We’re halfway there.”
> 
> "You're late to go home," Arme sounds concerned. "You left your music piece at the practice room too. Is it not done?"
> 
> "It needs some more work. I don't really know how to finish," Erbluhen agreed with him. "I was thinking... what about ending it really slow and melodious? Like a lullaby".
> 
> "Maybe like a 'twinkle twinkle little star'?” Erblu blinked at the high beam coming from the corner and his driver reduced their speed slightly. "Wouldn't that be interesting?" he wondered out loud, "as long as nobody falls asleep that is."
> 
> "Maybe," Arme sounded interested in the idea.
> 
> "What is that truck doing--?" he blurted out upon seeing a huge truck taking the corner at a high speed.
> 
> The chauffeur tried hard to steer the car away from the swerving truck, but it was futile.
> 
> "Erb--" Arme heard the high screeching of tires and the panicked cry of his friend and driver from the receiver. "Erbluhen!!! What is this sound?!!"
> 
> The truck didn’t stop.
> 
> "ERBLUHEN!!!"
> 
> The violent bang of metal was deafening, as if the volume of everything in the world had been remotely increased.
> 
> ...
> 
> Everything was getting dark...
> 
> He sucked in cramped air, feeling his lungs caving in on themselves.
> 
> ... there's red spots in the corners of his vision... he can’t tell where it’s coming from but...
> 
> Erbluhen doesn't care about that.
> 
> 'My hands....' he lifts his hands up to his limited spotty vision to check on them. They move so slow like it took hours before his eyes can glimpse at them.
> 
> ...there's an incessant loud sharp noise in the background... he ignores it as well...
> 
> 'My fingers are okay....' he thought, relieved upon seeing very minor cuts on his beloved fingers.
> 
> ..Okay... Then it's okay...
> 
> 'As long as I can still play....'
> 
> His vision fades to black.

“In that moment...all I cared about were my hands,” Erblu continues sadly. “I was like, what’s a pianist if they can’t use their hands anymore?”

> Erbluhen woke up in the sterile environment known as a hospital. He looked at his hands that were perfectly fine and smiles.
> 
> “Thank God my hands are okay,” he said out loud. Then he realized he couldn’t hear what he just said.
> 
> Erbluhen sat up, ignoring the screaming pain from his body. He looked beside him and saw that someone had left his phone there. The screen was cracked, but the device was miraculously still functioning, so he turned it on and looked for the first track he came across. He played it at full volume.
> 
> It was muffled and indistinct.
> 
> H e   c o u l d   n o t   h e a r   a   t h i n g.
> 
> N o t   e v e n   h i s   m u s i c.

“I thought that the only thing that ever mattered would have been my hands,” Erblu stretches out his long fingers and flexes them. “I didn’t expect to lose my hearing instead.” He turns to Sia. “You know what shitty thing I did?”

Sia looks at Erblu seated beside him on the piano chair, one hand wrapped around the other’s shoulders, stroking his hair. “No; what shitty thing did you do?” he chuckles.

“I actually...put a big dent in my piano,” Erblu replies sheepishly. “Like, I took a chair and I kind of hit the piano with it. That’s like you breaking your brushes or something.”

Sia tries to contain his laughter. “A piano costs way, way, way more than my brushes. That was a shitty thing to do.” The laugh fades away, and Sia’s voice became a little more solemn. “I’m really sorry that happened to you,” he says, trying to sign an apology.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Erblu replies, holding Sia’s signing hand. “You weren’t there. I didn’t want to have anything to do with music for a while. It sucked.”

Sia understands. It’d be like him losing his eyesight. He can’t imagine the agony and suffering; it’d be worse than hell.

“How did you get hold of this again?” Erblu points to the sheet music. Sia speaks slowly so Erblu can lip read - he figures it’s not worth embarrassing himself with more sign language. (He makes a mental note to pester Ara for lessons.)

“I got it from your friend, Arme,” Sia replies. “I was afraid it’d make you really upset, but he insisted I give it to you.”

Erblu beams again. “That Arme,” he says. “He somehow always, always knows exactly what to do. Thank you, both of you...I wish Arme was here too to hear this.”

“That can be arranged,” Sia says with a grin. “But first...can we go out on a date?”

Erblu laughs. “So are you holding Arme’s whereabouts hostage until I say yes?”

Sia kisses the back of Erblu’s hand. “Maybe.”

Erblu smiles and nods, leaning forward to kiss Sia again.

The following week, Arme and Ara show up on Erblu’s first date with Sia. Erblu wonders why Ara tagged along, and Sia says it’s because he’s sick of embarrassing himself with sign language. Arme, of course, shows off by using perfect sign language. Sia is torn between punching him in the face and admiring him.

By the end of the day, the four of them would be best of friends.


End file.
